LATE SONG OF THRUSH SHOWS JOY OF NATURE

A song thrush still trilling into winter and starlings pairing up to shelter in the attic underline that bird behaviour isn’t set in stone

Asweet note, and then one more: a musical couplet, followed immediately by another, hesitant at first but gaining in confidence as the music from a song thrush floated across the crisp dusk air.

This was a double-take moment – was I really

hearing this, for it was early winter, and I don’t ever recall encountering a song thrush in full musical flow at this time of year before?

But the lilting music began once more – this was most definitely a song thrush.

Indeed, a few dawns previously, and several miles

away from where I was now standing, I thought I had

heard a song thrush in pine woodland in the far distance.

However, I had dismissed it as a vagary of my imagination caused by my early-morning mind having not fully awoken.

Song thrushes certainly have the longest singing period of most birds in Scotland, often tuning-up in early January and still singing, albeit more hesitantly and erratically, by the end of August. Only the robin can exceed such singing longevity.

On doing some research, it appears it is not unusual

for song thrushes to sing in late autumn and early winter down in England as they proclaim their territories.

I imagine the song is heard much less often in Scotland at this time of year, principally because many of our song thrushes depart from their summer haunts and undertake partial migrations from inland areas to the coast, as well as further south and west to England and Ireland to escape the worst of the cold weather.

Other interesting bird behaviour has come to light on my home patch.

Every late afternoon, a pair of starlings swoop into a gap under the eaves of our house to spend the night in the attic.

On cold frosty nights, or when an easterly wind is blowing in snow flurries, it is hard to imagine a cosier place for this pair of love birds as they snuggle-up together.

Their behaviour differs from many other starlings in winter, who prefer to roost in

large flocks in woodlands or under bridges and in derelict buildings.

Each type of behaviour has its merits – there is safety in numbers and being in a large

roosting flock, and huddling close together generates

warmth.

During the day, by working together and sharing information, large groups can seek out the best feeding areas.

However, I reckon my solitary pair of starlings have adopted the best survival

strategy. Not only is a house attic warmer than a more open roosting site, but it also offers better protection from predators.

I imagine that my starlings bred together before, so don’t need to waste time and energy trying to find a mate in the breeding season.

The early singing song thrushes and the differing roosting behaviours of starlings highlight that animal behaviour is not always set in a tablet of stone.

Like us, each individual is unique and exhibits different personalities, which is why nature is such a beautiful

and multi-varied thing.

Hearing the song thrush late in the year is unusual as many seek warmer climes – but some are still around and in fine voice.